


Protection

by leen_go (cagedchaos)



Series: Protection [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Cop!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:25:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagedchaos/pseuds/leen_go
Summary: Kris Wu is the lead detective on a case where his mysterious primary suspect has a background that Kris could never have guessed.





	1. Chapter 1

As one of the homicide department’s lead detectives, Kris Wu was plenty accustomed to getting phone calls in the middle of the night and tonight was no different. After knocking over multiple items on his bedside table, Kris finally managed to locate his cell phone and was awake enough to use an annoyed tone. “Yeah,” he prompted his caller, not bothering with the usual niceties.

“We have a situation,” the voice on the other end said. It was Huang Zitao.

 _No shit,_ Kris wanted to reply as he rubbed his temples with his left hand, _Why the hell else would you be calling me at two-fucking-oh-three in the morning?!_ Of course, knowing Zitao’s tendencies, Kris would most likely have to spend an extra ten minutes trying to comfort the guy on the opposite end of the line, reassuring him that it wasn’t a personal comment made towards _him_ , just an expression of Kris’ irritation at the _situation_. Quite frankly, Kris found it surprising how such a sensitive guy like him had lasted this long in their field, what with everything they saw on the job.

Instead, Kris tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing up his hand to search for the switch of his lamp while he threw off his covers with his other hand.  Wiping the last of the sleep from his eyes, Kris reached for the pen and pad of paper he always had ready for situations like this. Throwing on his glasses, Kris muttered into the phone, “Go ahead,” and wrote down the address where he was required.

Fifteen minutes later, Kris stepped out of the driver’s seat and flashed his credentials at the nearest uniformed officer. With an acknowledging nod from someone who passed him a pair of latex gloves, Kris stepped carefully through the front door of the apartment. At first glance, save for the forensic team, the apartment barely looked lived in. The kitchen had no cutlery and no flatware. The cupboards and drawers were all bare, and not a hint of anything edible was in sight, not even a pack of instant noodles.

 _Maybe the owner of this apartment just gets take-out all the time._ Kris doubted it.

“Detective Wu.”

Kris scowled as he turned around, “Goddammit, Zitao, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Kris? ‘Detective Wu’ makes me sound at least forty years old.”

“Sorry, sir,” Huang Zitao answered, though he didn’t look as apologetic as he sounded. However, to be fair, Zitao was never what he looked. When he had first passed in front of Kris in an interview, he’d been taken aback by Huang Zitao’s dark eyes that suggested brewing deadly intent. If Kris had based his decision whether to hire the intern based solely on first impressions, he definitely would’ve said no, because it was illogical to hire someone to work in the justice field who was going to break a million laws himself. Except interviews always had the part where you _spoke_ with the candidate (and not just looked at them), and Kris had been pleasantly surprised by the timid and naïve person behind the charismatic face.

Kris rolled his eyes; ‘sir’ certainly wasn’t any better than ‘detective Wu’, but for the sake of their current circumstances, he let it slide. “So what do we have on the victim?”

Before Kris had even finished asking his question, Zitao had already pulled out his notebook, eager to share what he’d learned. Kris almost chuckled: Huang Zitao was only three years Kris’ junior, but his eagerness made him seem so much younger. Kris followed him into the bedroom where he signalled for the forensic team to give the pair some space.

“Around one o’clock this morning, emergency gets an anonymous caller reporting that they may have heard a gunshot in this apartment. Police arrived to find no sound coming from within, but the door was unlocked. Found our John Doe exactly as he is now.” Zitao pointed with his pen at the body lying on the ground where a bed would have logically been placed.

The bedroom looked just as unlived in as the kitchen; no dressers, no bed, not even a crappy-mattress-on-the-floor type deal. An open door showed that the closet was also empty except for a couple of wire hangers that held nothing. Crossing his arms, Kris looked down at the corpse, scotch-free if you didn’t count the bullet hole in his head. The victim’s hand held a 9-mm semi-automatic fitted with a suppressor.  Kris cocked his head to the side so he could see the face better, which only made him grimace. The victim looked young – younger than Kris himself, still a teenager, perhaps? – too young than should be allowed to see such a terrible ending. Either that or he had one hell of a baby face.

“For the past year, this apartment has been rented by one Luhan, but our records show nothing on him; it could very well be an alias, since no contract was actually signed. The landlord lives a block away, she’s told us that she’s never actually met the tenant who goes by the name of Luhan, but since his friend had told her that he’d be willing to double the rent as well as pay in cash, she couldn’t say no.”

Kris made a noise to confirm that he was still listening, even if he wasn’t looking at Zitao as his eyes continued to scan the rest of the room. The window overlooked the road below and had pale pink curtains that looked like they were long overdue for a wash. _Why do you need curtains when you don’t even really live in here?_ Kris thought wryly, but then wondered if perhaps they came with the property.

Careful not to step on or in anything, Kris moved back to the living room where there was a couch and a coffee table, on which stood a couple of nearly empty beer bottles. The condensation from the cold had formed rings at the bases.

“Did they track down the witness who called in the shot?” Kris asked, pulling out his phone to take a couple of pictures of the scene.

Zitao didn’t answer immediately.

“Well?” Kris pressed.

“Yes.”

Kris rolled his eyes again, impatiently, “And?”

“The number tracks back to this apartment.”

Kris sighed, _Of course it did_ , he thought irritably. “Any other leads?”

Zitao shook his head, “Not for now. Forensics is sweeping the place for fingerprints and anything else unusual. The landlord had to run out because she got called away by her family, but promised we could stop by again when she got back, and we’ve already got people looking for anything on this Luhan person.”

“Good,” was Kris’ only acknowledgement before he started towards the bathroom, leaving Zitao to talk to the forensic team in the living room. The gears started turning as he put together scenarios one by one in his head. The most obvious scenario was that Luhan and Kris’ unidentified victim was the same person, and he had just committed suicide. He’d called the police just to make sure that his body was found after he’d taken his own life.

Kris opened the medicine cabinet that doubled as a mirror and picked up a half empty prescription bottle: antidepressants in Luhan’s name. _Well, that only somewhat justifies a suicide_. Kris knew from personal experience that antidepressants weren’t a sure sign of suicidal tendencies. Aside from a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers, there was nothing else of note in the bathroom, not even a hairbrush or a toothbrush to grab DNA off of. Sighing with exasperation, Kris closed the mirrored door a little harder than normal, making one of the gloved photographers outside the bathroom turn in his direction. He mouthed a quick sorry and turned to leave when something caught his eye: a corner of a photo was now peeking out from behind the mirror, probably having slid out after Kris half-slammed the door closed. Being careful not to rip this newly found evidence, Kris slid the picture out slowly. Before he had a chance to take a good look at it, Zitao knocked on the door to announce himself and Kris turned to face him, putting the hand that held the picture behind his back, hidden from the intern’s view.

“Find anything?” Zitao asked earnestly.

Kris swallowed. Truthfully, he’d have to say yes, but Zitao was always such a stickler for procedure and Kris was… not. If he submitted the picture to evidence, it would take forever for him to be able to get his hands on it again.

“Nothing new here,” Kris reported, looking down to check his watch, “I’m pretty much done here so I’m going to head out and sort things out myself.” Zitao nodded understandingly; Kris always did this after going over the scene once. Noting that Zitao didn’t seem to find anything peculiar, he continued casually, “Call me if anything new comes up.”

Zitao nodded again, “No problem.” He turned to leave the washroom so Kris could exit as well, giving Kris the opportunity to quickly slip the picture into his wallet before shoving it into his back pocket and following Zitao out the door.

When Kris stepped outside, his ears were bombarded with loud argument: a citizen was complaining loudly to one of the officers stationed at the entrance to the house which had been renovated into two separate living units, one of which was his crime scene. Kris made his way over to the pair, noting the 24-hour corner store bags the young male carried in his hands.

“But I live here!”

Kris pulled his badge out to show the officer, who seemed grateful to be relieved of the duty of dealing with the crazed citizen carrying grocery bags and a tub of ice-cream. “Sir? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, in fact there is. I live here but apparently, I’m not allowed into my own home so I can catch a wink of sleep.”

“Ah, yes,” Kris started calmly, “You see, Mr. …” he paused so he could be given a name.

“Oh, uhm,” he seemed to take a moment to recall what the question had been, “Zhang Yixing.”

“Mr. Zhang,” Kris continued, wondering how best to explain the situation without giving away details of the investigation. “My name is Kris Wu and I’m the leading officer here. There’s been a situation that’s come up and I’m afraid that even if you managed to get inside your home, you won’t be able to get much sleep since it’ll likely take at least until daybreak for things to quiet down. Might I suggest that you call a friend? Or grab a hotel room for the night?”

Zhang Yixing, as he had introduced himself to Kris looked at the calm chaos around his home, “Something bad happened, didn’t it?”

“Mr. Zhang, it’s best that you come back again tomorrow,” Kris repeated, dodging the question.

Zhang Yixing seemed to contemplate a moment and Kris raised an eyebrow; was this grown man actually _pouting_?

“Do you mind if I throw this in my fridge first?”

“Uh…” Kris looked down at the bag Mr. Zhang opened for him, “Yeah, I’m sure we could arrange that.” He motioned to the nearest officer and asked him to escort Mr. Zhang to his fridge and then back out again.

“Thanks, Kris! You’re the best” Zhang Yixing threw him a beaming smile, and Kris couldn’t help but notice the dimple on his gentle facial features as he turned and skipped to the entrance to his house through a side door. Shaking his head, Kris tossed his gloves into the garbage and climbed back into his car, noting that the neighbour was excessively friendly, having called him by his first name.

…

At a quarter after three, Kris knocked on the glass windows of the bar a block down from his house.

“We’re closed!” yelled a voice from behind the counter.

“Kim Jongdae! It’s me!” Kris yelled right back, at the window, ignoring the look he got from a passer-by; he tried not to wonder at whether the person felt the desire to call the cops about a publicly inebriated citizen on the streets in the middle of the night.

An angular face with short black hair peeked from behind the bar counter, narrowed his eyes to see better, and grinned when he recognized the person outside. Satisfied with getting his best friend’s attention, Kris wandered to the front of the bar to wait for Jongdae to open the door for him.

“Am I to assume that you just got back from another crime scene then?” Jongdae asked as he let Kris in, making sure to lock the door again. He couldn’t hide a scoff, “Why is it that every time you drop by here, you’re dressed like you just rolled out of bed? What happened to that super suave guy who was always properly shaved, wore designer brands and strutted like he owned the whole damn world?”

“I didn’t just roll out of bed. I rolled out of bed an hour ago.” Kris grumbled as he hopped onto one of the stools that sat in front of the bar counter.  “And that guy just performs a whole lot better when he doesn’t get called up in the middle of the night to go look at a corpse. Not everyone sleeps during the day and works during the night, Jongdae.” He pointed to a clean glass draining on the counter on top of a towel, “Just get me a beer, will ya? And I did not and still don’t ‘strut’.”

Jongdae was one of Kris’ oldest friends, having lived together as roommates in university for a couple of years before Jongdae realised that traditional schooling was getting him nowhere he wanted in life and decided to take out a bank loan and open up a bar. After only a year, he was already out of the red, and half a decade in, Jongdae probably had enough saved up to retire early. Even though he had hired capable servers and bartenders, Jongdae was still very hands on, serving up drinks himself more than a handful of times a week.

“What’s the damage tonight?” Jongdae asked Kris as he placed a crisp glass of beer on a coaster in front of him.

“A single John Doe,” Kris answered, continuing on vaguely, “Potential suicide, maybe not. No concrete leads yet.”

Jongdae nodded as he turned around to rearrange the rack of liquors on the wall. He was well used to having Kris come into his bar at odd hours in the night, just to straighten out his thoughts. It was lucky for Kris, or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it, that he always caught Jongdae after last call had long passed and everyone had gone home. Though where Kris went when he had a case at high bar traffic time, Jongdae really had no idea: probably just back to his home or office, he guessed.

Kris was already hunched over his notebook when Jongdae said, “I’m heading back to the fridge. Holler real loud if you need something.” Kris waved him away without looking up, taking a drink from his glass as he continued scribbling, noting down everything he had scene as it unravelled in his mind.

In the middle of contemplating a scenario where the victim was in a tussle with an unknown party, Kris’ phone went off, nearly scaring him into falling off his seat. It was Zitao again.

“What do you have for me?”

“Still no visual identification for our Luhan guy, but we’re doing everything we can, sir. Just calling in to see if you needed anything else.”

For the second time that night, Kris wanted to yell at Zitao and had to refrain from doing so by reminding himself that swearing at Zitao would only make the kid want to cry because he was just trying to be helpful. Kris did not work well with crying people. “Thanks, but nothing for now.” Kris pulled up his wrist to check the time: 3:40 am – had he already been sitting here that long? “And Zitao. Get some sleep. You’ve done good.”

“Alright. You too, sir.” Kris growled lightly into the phone. “Er, I mean K…Kris.”

Kris almost laughed, imagining Zitao squirm from speaking so informally to his boss, “’Night, Zitao,” he said into his phone, barely suppressing the amusement in his voice.

“Was that Huang Zitao?” Jongdae had reappeared from whatever it was he was doing in the back fridge.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Kris answered in a bored tone, still focused on his notebook.

“Huang Zitao. Zitao. Zitaoooo…”

Kris looked up with a raised eyebrow, “Yes, that is my intern’s name, and repeating it fifty times isn’t going to change it.”

“Tao. Taozi.” Either Jongdae didn’t hear Kris, or, the more likely scenario, he was choosing to ignore him as he wiped down the bar counter, “Taozi’s a nice nickname. You should use it with him. I’m sure he’d like that.”

Kris rolled his eyes, “Alright, alright. Just get it out of your system already.”

Jongdae grinned, “What? I think it’s cute that the kid’s got a crush on you.”

Kris grimaced. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d had this conversation with Jongdae. Kris was certain that Zitao looked to him as a brotherly figure, someone he could aspire to be, whereas the delusional, and probably more romantic, Jongdae refused to believe that Zitao had no non-platonic feelings towards Kris.

“I mean, come on. The kid practically worships you. He’d probably jump off a building if you asked him to.” Jongdae moved on from cleaning the bar counter to wiping down the individual tables scattered around the establishment.

“Whatever.” Kris was barely paying attention to his friend anymore as he suddenly remembered the picture he’d stolen from the crime scene earlier. Pulling it out of his wallet, he turned to his friend, “Hey, Jongdae, you got a clean plastic resealable bag somewhere?”

“Yeah, give me a sec,” Jongdae replied, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Holding it by the edges so as to prevent his fingerprints from getting everywhere as he waited, Kris realised it was a self-taken portrait using one of those polaroid cameras that seemed so popular in the past months. A smiling, and much more alive, version of the male he’d left at the crime scene had his arm around another man who had the majority of his face scratched out, most likely with a sharp object and intentionally, though Kris could still make out an artificially lightening hair colour.

“What’s that on the back?” Jongdae had returned with a bag, into which Kris slipped the picture.

Pressing the bag closed, Kris turned it around to see what Jongdae had asked about: “ _Luhan, it was great meeting you tonight. – Minseok.”_ Kris read out loud. The numbers at the bottom dated the picture back more than half a year.  _Great_ , Kris thought to himself, _With my luck, Minseok will be my vic and I will still have no visual reference for Luhan._

“Can I see that picture?” Jongdae asked. Kris looked at him sceptically; while Jongdae respected Kris’ work, he’d never once asked about any of Kris’ case if he didn’t say anything himself. “Just let me take a look, will ya?” Jongdae snatched the bag from Kris’ fingers before he had a chance to object. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered before putting Kris’ evidence back in front of him.

“Come again?” Kris asked, taking a drink from his now luke-warm beer. He made a face and pushed the glass away.

“I recognize them. Kim Minseok and Luhan. The two lovebirds showed up here all the time to watch the soccer game on the big screen whenever Manchester United played. A couple of my best tippers, I might add.”

“When’s the last time you saw them?” Kris asked, picking up his pen again.

Jongdae scrunched up his face in thought, “Probably a month ago? Can’t be too sure. Though I do remember them getting into a fight early in the night before the game had even started. Something about Luhan flirting with too many guys that weren’t Minseok. Damn idiots had made-up before half-time and were having more PDA than I’d like.”

“And you’re sure it was these two?” Kris showed Jongdae the picture again, just to be sure.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jongdae nodded, “It’d be hard to forget faces like theirs.”

Kris sighed, “Let me guess, the one with dark hair is Kim Minseok, and the one whose face is no longer visible is Luhan.”

Jongdae nodded again.

“Of course,” Kris griped to himself. “Do you think you could come by the station today once daylight hits and help one of our artists put a face to the name?”

“No can do, Kris. I’m heading out on a weeklong business trip. But I can definitely do it once I get back if you still need it.” Jongdae picked up Kris’ abandoned drink, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when he noticed that Kris had let the beer run warm.

Kris scowled. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such bad luck finding a face for an easy suspect. “I hope that after a whole damn week, I will have already found a face for this guy.” Even as Kris said the words, he felt like he’d just cast himself a challenge with whatever greater power it was that liked to play keep away with important case information. When he checked his watch again, it read just past four in the morning, making his mouth pull instinctively into a wide yawn.

“Better get to bed, delicate flower. Those ten hours don’t come by themselves.”

Kris chucked his coaster as Jongdae for referencing his college years when it had been imperative that he slept for tens hours every day. Obviously, since his inception into the police force, his hours had been reduced significantly. “Alright, I’m heading out. Have fun on your trip.” Kris hopped off his seat, collected all this articles and headed towards the door.

“Yeah, because fun is definitely the right word for a business trip.”

Kris chuckled as he let himself out, “I’ll bet you ten bucks you’ll have more fun than me.”

…

When Kris arrived back at the crime scene after lunch, there was no sign of the police presence that had been so strong just twelve hours ago. Even having been in the business a handful of years, Kris was always astounded at how fast the cleaners were at getting things back in order again. Of course, Kris knew that much of the inside of the apartment probably still looked exactly as it had at night.

Kris walked right past the house until he arrived at another a significant distance away, the address at which the landlord had said they could find her. He rang the doorbell and tapped his fingers on his notebook as he waited for an answer.

“Can I help you?” The door was open a crack and a female face looked up at him.

“Ah yes. I’m Detective Kris Wu,” Kris flashed his badge, “I was told that you could help us with the case involving one of your tenants living at,” Kris looked down at his notebook to confirm the address, “12 History Road?” _Who the hell names these streets?_

“Right.” She opened her door wider so Kris didn’t feel like he was a hostile potential burglar anymore, “Do you have some time? We could talk at a coffee shop, or something. I’d prefer if we didn’t do this here. I don’t like strangers in my house, no offense.”

“Sure, that’s no problem,” Kris answered, not offended in any way. He understood her feelings and shared them as well; he too preferred not to have strangers in his home.

“Just give me a sec.” The woman smiled, grabbed her wallet, her phone and her keys, shoving them into her various pockets before locking her door. “Shall we?”

The pair walked in silence until they reached the coffee shop five minutes away. Kris offered to buy her a drink, but she kindly refused, offering instead to pay for his black coffee on top of her own iced beverage.

“So, what do you want to know?” she asked when they had settled into a booth in the quietest part of the café.

Kris pulled out a tape recorder and placed it on the table, “It’s just so I have something concrete when someone questions the legitimacy of my arguments further down the road,” he explained as she sat down across from him with a questioning look.

Her eyebrows raised in a mildly amused manner, “Or you know, in case I lie to you, you can use this as evidence to charge me for the obstruction of justice,” she laughed.

Kris smiled, he always liked it when witnesses could joke around, because it made asking questions less like an interrogation and more of a conversation. Of course, he always had to be careful that it wasn’t a trick designed to distract him. “Let’s start with your name, for the record.”

The landlord shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. “Do you have to have my name? I mean, you have my address, and you have my phone number – you can call it now, it’ll ring.”

Kris sighed, “It’s just procedure.” He hated sounding like Zitao, but he’d been burned once before, and he wasn’t keen on repeating the same mistake twice, despite the breach in procedure with the photo.

She sighed and hesitated a moment, “Amber Liu.” She eyed the open notebook that lay in front of Kris. “Aren’t you going to take notes?”

Kris shook his head, “I’d rather pay attention to what you say now, since I’ll have this recording to get back to later. I might scribble a thing or two here and there though, just don’t pay too much attention to that. Before we start, is there anything you want to ask me?”

Amber Liu narrowed her eyes, “Kris, was it?” she waited for his confirmation, “Aren’t you a little, uh, young to have this position? Also aren’t you a little too good-looking to be staring at dead bodies all the time?”

Kris cleared his throat uncomfortably at the unexpected compliment. “I skipped a couple of grades in school, took the fast track,” he explained, not bothering with the second half of the question. Kris had always been aware of the looks he often got from people, and used to take full advantage of it when he was younger, but seeing the types of criminals that come by him has given him a new sense of awareness. Being good looking didn’t make you a good person. “Is that all?”

Amber Liu grinned, “Yep.”

“So I guess we should start from the beginning. When and where did you meet Luhan?”

Amber Liu’s eyebrows furrowed together as she took a sip from her straw. “Meet isn’t exactly the right word.”

Kris recalled how Zitao explained the peculiar situation between landlord and tenant, “Right, so I’ve been told. Care to explain it so I can hear it for myself, then?” He pointed to the tiny machine on the table, “And also for the record.”

“It was actually his best friend who vouched for him, Zhang Yixing.” Amber Liu started to explain.

Kris’ ears perked up at the name, why did it sound familiar?

“He lives in the other half of the house,” she continued

 _Ah, the guy with the ice cream last night_ , Kris recalled. He made a mental note that he would have to go talk to this Zhang Yixing later.

“They’re apparently best friends from a long time ago. And Yixing has always been one of my best residents so I trusted him that this Luhan would be a good guy as well. It’s worked out so far, so I’ve never had anything to have to keep an eye on.”

“But you’ve never actually seen Luhan?” Kris prompted.

Amber Liu nodded, “He’s a busy man, with a business to run, I suspect. From what Yixing has told me, he’s the son of the CEO of some large company. I never bothered to ask which one. Comes home late and leaves early in the morning, so I'm guessing he’s a good employee, rather than those playboys you read in the gossip mags. Always has his rent in his mailbox the third of every month. I normally don’t like to have anonymous tenants, but the offer for double the rent was rather attractive and he’s never given me trouble. Well, until now anyway.”

Kris pulled out the picture in the plastic bag, “Have you ever seen this man?”

Amber Liu put down her drink, wiped her hands and reached for the picture, “Sure. Seen him going in and out of Luhan’s place a couple of times. Always very polite whenever he saw me, offering to open doors, help carry my bags and such.”

Kris made a sound to confirm that he’d heard her, “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

Amber Liu shook her head, “If that’s everything, I’ll take my leave. I’ve still got a couple of errands to run.”

“Yeah, that should be everything, thanks. I’ll call you if we need to talk again?”

Amber Liu nodded as she got up from her seat, “Sure, you have my number.” She grabbed her drink and was out the door, leaving Kris behind to mull over the information she’d given him.

Kris sighed heavily. He still had no concrete leads on Luhan, except that he had blond hair half a year ago, was the son of some important person and enjoyed watching soccer at the bar with his now-dead boyfriend. It annoyed Kris to no end that he still didn’t have a face for Luhan. He could have his team look for the name Luhan in the ‘rich people’s almanac’ but given that Zitao had already run the name through their databases, Kris was finding it hard to believe that Luhan was even a real name. Besides, with no face, it was hard to get any information on him if it existed.

The only thing he had now was to talk to Zhang Yixing. Maybe then he’d have something concrete to work off of.

…

No one answered when Kris rang Zhang Yixing’s doorbell, twice. Kris wandered around the converted house, trying to look in through the windows, but it was clear that the entire downstairs had belonged to Luhan; Zhang Yixing must live upstairs.

“Uhm, can I help you?”

Kris pulled away from the window on the side door leading to Zhang Yixing’s apartment, turning to find the person he’d been looking for standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. “We met last night?” Kris said, trying to refresh Zhang Yixing’s memory.

“Oh, right, officer,” he said, after a moment of thought. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could talk about Luhan, Mr. Zhang.”

Zhang Yixing smiled widely at the mention of Luhan, “Of course. But Mr. Zhang is my father, please just call me Yixing.”

Kris almost grimaced, he didn’t particularly like calling people with whom he’d spoken less than five full sentences by just their given name. He preferred keeping the surnames; they kept any potential suspects at least an arm’s length away. Impersonal.

Zhang Yixing walked up beside Kris and fished around in his pockets for his keys, having clearly forgotten where he’d placed them. Kris watched him with amusement; how does one forget where they put such an everyday item such as their own house keys? He had to bite his lip from laughing when Yixing dropped his gym bag so he could dig through its contents, only to realise that his keys were actually in the pocket of the hooded sweater he was wearing. Kris tried not to make a face at the smell emanating from the duffel bag. He thanked no one in particular that Zhang Yixing had the decency to shower after whatever work-out he’d just come from.

“Come on in!” Zhang Yixing invited cheerfully when he finally managed to open the door.

If Luhan’s apartment had looked unlived in, Zhang Yixing’s apartment was the complete opposite. His living room had an old couch with a couple of blankets thrown over it that faced a medium-sized television hanging off the wall. The kitchen clearly showed that the owner cooked, but had a habit of forgetting to clean up small messes on the counter and the stove. There were clothes hanging off the kitchen chairs and shoes strewn about at the entrance to the apartment.

Zhang Yixing had already kicked off his shoes and was running about trying to make his place more visitor-friendly. “I’m really sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of guests. Do you want anything to drink?”

Kris almost grinned; it’d been a long time since he’d been in a home that felt so alive with life. _Besides_ , he corrected himself, _You can understand how people live best when they aren’t expecting guests, with no time to conceal anything_. He took a seat on the couch, “Water, if you don’t mind.”

Another easy smile from Zhang Yixing showcased the dimple in his right cheek. “Yeah, sure.”

Kris hadn’t met such a good host in a long time either. As he pulled out the recorder again, Kris asked, “You don’t mind if I record this conversation?” When Zhang Yixing’s footsteps hesitated as he carried the glass of water to his guest, Kris explained in the same manner that he explained to Amber Liu earlier that afternoon.

“Yeah, I guess.” Zhang Yixing joined Kris on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs and sitting perpendicular to it so he could face Kris. “Where’d you get that shirt?”

Caught off guard, Kris raised an eyebrow, “Pardon?” he stuttered. When did he ever stutter?

Holding a glass with both his hands, Zhang Yixing signalled to Kris’ shirt with his chin, “Nothing. Just wanted to say that it looks good on you.” His dyed chestnut-brown hair fell into his eyes and he flipped it to one side without using his hands. It was still moist from his shower, Kris noticed. “And are you wearing contacts? I could’ve sworn you were wearing glasses last night. I think I prefer the glasses look more. Makes you look… smart.”

“Uhm…” True, Kris usually preferred to wear contacts when he went out, except when he was called in emergencies, like last night.

Zhang Yixing smiled again with that damned dimple. “Sorry, I have a habit of just saying what’s on my mind.” He shifted in his seat, a movement Kris felt under himself as well, “You were saying, Mr. Inspector man?”

Suddenly realising he was staring, Kris averted his eyes back to his notebook, even though there wasn’t much in it. He grabbed a pen anyway, despite what he had said earlier about taking notes. “I wanted to talk to you about your neighbour? Luhan?”

“Oh, yeah!” Zhang Yixing’s eyes light up with a twinkle and Kris couldn’t help wonder if Zhang Yixing was one of the guys that Luhan and Kim Minseok had gotten into a fight over at the bar a month ago, “What about him?”

“Can you tell me about him?”

“What part?”

“Any part,” Kris answered, almost annoyed. He was supposed to be the one with the questions.

“Hmm. Well, Luhan and I met when we were in high school. He was that guy that everyone wanted to be, or be with. You know, smart, attractive, athletic, from a foreign country…” Zhang Yixing seemed to dip into his own world as he described Luhan and Kris took notes with a messy hand, careful to write down only what Zhang Yixing _said_ , and not his personal impressions of the kid.

According to Zhang Yixing, he and Luhan hadn’t been friends from the get-go, given that the two had run in different social circles; Zhang Yixing was in the music department, and Luhan was more of an academic, studying maths and business as per his family’s requests. The only reason Luhan knew of Zhang Yixing’s existence was because of his interest of music. Certainly, the Lu family hardly approved of their only heir pursuing something as volatile as music, so Luhan had asked for lessons from Zhang Yixing, even offering to pay if he kept mum about it. Zhang Yixing had refused, citing that music was his payment.

Eventually, Luhan had to head home to the company and Zhang Yixing didn’t hear from him until about a year ago, when he told Zhang Yixing excitedly that he would be heading up the office here and they could hang out together, pick up where they left off. So when Zhang Yixing heard that the apartment below his was free, he asked Amber Liu if Luhan could stay.

Zhang Yixing suddenly fell silent, his eyes distant, as if looking at something only he could see.

Kris frowned, “And?”

Zhang Yixing blinked a couple of times, “Well, Luhan was busier than I expected, so I never really got to see him much. Oh!” He suddenly got up and disappeared into his room, leaving Kris staring after him in confusion.

“Zhang Yixing?” Kris called, uncertainly, in the direction that Zhang Yixing had disappeared.

The dimpled male showed up again, holding various pieces of paper in a messy pile. “I wrote him letters and slipped them under his door.  And then he’d write back and slipped them back under my door. See?”

Kris took the pieces in hand and stared at the writing, most of them short hellos and some varying pieces of advice for problems that Zhang Yixing had been having. “Do you mind if I take a couple of these?” he asked.

Zhang Yixing frowned, “Well…”

“Or maybe take a couple of pictures?” Kris offered instead, fully aware that he rarely suggested such alternatives, but something made it impossible for Kris to take away what seemed so important for Zhang Yixing.

As Kris quietly snapped pictures on his phone, Zhang Yixing watched in silence until Kris handed the pages back to him. “Do you know where Luhan is now?” He asked, almost pleadingly.

“Not yet,” Kris answered vaguely as he circled the company name that Zhang Yixing had given him, Lu Xia Corp.

Zhang Yixing crossed his legs on the couch again, resuming his position from before he had run into his bedroom, “I miss him.”

Kris had nothing to say to this and swallowed instead. “So what about you, then?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, what do you do?” Kris asked, though he was unsure how this would be pertinent to the case.

“Oh, uh, I’m a choreographer.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” the twinkle in his eye from when he had first started to talk about Luhan made an appearance again. Kris associated the trait with things that Zhang Yixing seemed to be passionate about. “Right now, I’m working with Exo. Heard of them?”

Kris shook his head, “Maybe,” he’d never really been into the pop-group part of the music scene.

“Well, they’re a great bunch of guys, the six of ‘em: Joonmyeon, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Jongin and Sehun . I just came back from a session with them actually. You should meet them, really down to earth and not at all what you’d expect such popular celebrities to be..”

“Yeah, sure,” Kris answered without thinking, even though he was pretty sure he didn’t care for boy bands. He still wasn’t sure why he was letting Zhang Yixing ramble on about something completely unrelated to his case.

Zhang Yixing broke into a wide smile again, “Really? Why not now?”

“What?” Kris answered in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

“Come on, I’ve got dinner with them in like half an hour. We’re meeting up at the dance studio I work at, just down the street. You can come and I’ll introduce you!”

“What?” Kris repeated, not sure if what he was hearing was actually happening.

“Oh, come _on_. You look like you could do with some fun!” Zhang Yixing was already on his feet, slapping Kris in the shoulder with the back of his hand playfully.

Zhang Yixing’s smile was contagious and Kris found himself grinning too. “Yeah, okay.” Kris said, starting to get up as well until he looked back down at the pen in one hand, the notebook with scribbles everywhere, and then then at the recorder sitting on the coffee table before he snapped back to reality. “Uhm, actually, maybe next time.”

Zhang Yixing frowned, “Oh. Okay then.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Kris argued, ignoring the lump that had somehow formed in his throat, “It’s just that…” Kris searched for a viable excuse, “I, uh, have to look for Luhan. You want to find him too, right?” Kris had no idea why he felt the need to seek Zhang Yixing’s approval, or why he even wanted to find an acceptable reason to reject Zhang Yixing’s offer to meet Exo.

“Yeah. You’ll tell me once you know, right?” Zhang Yixing asked earnestly.

Kris chose this moment to swallow the increasing lump of guilt in his throat as he packed his things into his bag and slipped his shoes on, “Sure,” he lied.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sir, we finally have something,” Zitao announced when Kris walked into the office the next day. “We ran the name Luhan with the company you gave us yesterday, Lu Xia Corp. Came up with a positive ident,” Zitao handed Kris a folder, the former taking the latter’s designer blazer in exchange.

  
Inside, a 3.5x5” picture of a young man with simulated light hair smiled up at Kris. He was wearing a crisp suit which complimented his youthful face where the only feature giving away his age were the small wrinkles that formed at the edge of his eyes. Kris found it annoying that someone his age – older than him by more than half a year, actually – could look so much younger than him. “Do we know where he is now?”

“Out of country. Staying at this hotel in Vancouver, Canada,” Zitao reported dutifully, slipping a page over the folder in Kris’ hand. “Which is good for you, I guess, since you get to visit your hometown.”

Kris scoffed to cover up his excitement, half for what Zitao had said, and half because he could finally stop chasing a damn shadow, “Yeah, but this’ll hardly be a vacation.” He dropped the file onto his desk and started flipping through the documents that had accumulated on his inbox tray.

“Already have your ticket ready for this evening,” Zitao announced, handing Kris a copy of his e-ticket.

“Good,” Kris skimmed the information on the sheet Zitao handed him, filing the time into his mental black book. “Can you pull up what we’ve got on Zhang Yixing? Also, I’ll come pick you up ‘round four this afternoon?”

“Eh?” Tao looked at Kris with a confused look.

“You don’t expect me to work on this all alone over there, do you?”

“You want… _me_ … to come with you? Like just the two of us?” Tao looked so excited that Jongdae’s words repeated themselves in his head: _I think it’s cute that the kid’s got a crush on you._ Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring him along.

“If you don’t want to, I can ask someone else.” Kris shrugged, slipping his print-out tickets into his top drawer for storage. “I just figured it’d be good experience for an intern.”

“Nonono! I mean, yeah I want to go.”

Kris looked at Zitao with a bemused expression, “Well, what’re you still standing here for?” Kris barked, sending Zitao running out his office door. Kris shook his head at the intern and neatly started collecting the files he would need into his laptop bag.

…

Kris didn’t understand why he was sitting in his parked car in front of the dance studio that Zhang Yixing had mentioned he worked at. It certainly wasn’t on his way home, rather, it was actually on the opposite side of town.

_"You’ll tell me once you know, right?"_

Kris groaned, leaning his head on his arms on top of his steering wheel. He had no actual obligation to tell Zhang Yixing that he’d found out where Luhan was staying, and yet here he was. He glanced over at the file folder with the label ‘Zhang Yixing’ that held all the information that Zitao had managed to collect in the little time from when Kris first made his request to lunch time, when Kris told him to go home and pack. Kris had yet to open the file, having had multiple arguments with himself about whether this was an appropriate course of action.

 _He could be the one who killed Kim Minseok, given that he lives next door!_ We have no proof of that yet, you’re just doing this because you’re curious. _No proof? He’s the only guy you’ve found who’s said he knows Luhan. For all we know, he just made that all up to escape suspicion._ Oh please, the guy wouldn’t know how to lie even if you taught him to, and then threatened him with a gun to his head. _You’re letting your personal impressions cloud your professional judgement._

Kris closed his eyes and tried to mute the annoying voice in his head that was speaking more truth than he’d like. He peeked sideways at the folder again, and decided to stow it into his glove compartment without reading it for the time being. Sighing with his decision, he climbed out of the car and walked towards the double doors. At the reception, he asked the secretary for Zhang Yixing, stating he was a friend who wanted to say hello. The secretary shot him a suspicious look, so Kris turned on his charm, smiling at her with his piercing eyes. It didn’t take long for her to succumb, telling Kris to turn right at the end of the corridor.

Zhang Yixing wasn’t currently teaching a class, but music with a strong beat was still playing from the speakers. Kris watched, almost mesmerized, as Zhang Yixing’s movements flowed from one to the next. He found it surprising that the cute man-child he met at Zhang Yixing’s apartment was the same person as this dancer with the fierce magnetism. Kris crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe to watch until the song ended and Zhang Yixing finally noticed that he had an audience.

“Kris? What are you doing here?” Zhang Yixing hit the stop button before skipping over to Kris, towel in hand.

 _Still that same kid_ , Kris thought to himself, emphasizing the ‘kid’ and trying to keep his eyes from looking down at Zhang Yixing’s arms and chest, the contours of which could be clearly seen under his sweat-soaked tank top. “Uh,” Kris fumbled when he remembered he’d been asked a question. “I’m taking a trip.” _Yes, what a good comment. Like he gives a damn that you’re taking a trip._

Zhang Yixing paused in the middle of drying his hair, draping the towel around his neck, “You found Luhan, didn’t you?”

Kris didn’t answer.

“Can you tell him I miss him?”

More silence. What was Kris supposed to say? ‘Sure, let me drop your best friend that message as I’m arresting him.’ Kris didn’t want to see Zhang Yixing upset.

Zhang Yixing took a deep breath and put on a smile despite Kris’ obvious avoidance of the topic. “Wanna learn?” Zhang Yixing nodded towards the dance floor with the huge panelled mirrors.

Kris laughed, “Uh, no thanks.” He’d learned in college that he had no bodily coordination, mostly due to his giant height. “I’m, uh, wearing jeans,” Kris explained ineffectively.

“Pft,” Zhang Yixing obviously didn’t buy Kris’ excuse, “The guys I work with wear jeans, _skinny_ jeans, all the time, and they do perfectly fine.” He grabbed Kris’ arm and pulled him, with surprising strength, towards the middle of the floor, spinning him to face the mirror. He hit the play button again and returned to stand next to Kris. “Just follow what I do.” Kris scowled which only made Zhang Yixing laugh, “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

Kris felt the uncomfortable lump in his throat again, this time, accompanied by an unwelcome clench in his chest. “I’m telling you, this is a terrible idea,” Kris muttered, only half trying to copy the positions Zhang Yixing was performing.

“That’s because you’re not even trying,” Zhang Yixing pouted, breaking out of his move and stepping in front of Kris, who had his arms somewhere halfway above his head like a monkey. “Here, you need to put your arm like _this_.”

Kris drew his arm back when Zhang Yixing tried moving it; he didn’t like the way his arm seemed to burn at Zhang Yixing’s touch.

“Quit being such a pansy,” Zhang Yixing exclaimed, grabbing Kris’ arm with no regard for the uncomfortable look he was wearing. “What are you made of, cement? God, you’re stiff like a board.” In spite of his comments, Zhang Yixing was still trying to make Kris’ arms move in a continuous wave.

Kris clenched his jaw as he stared down at the top of Zhang Yixing’s head. _It was a mistake coming here_. He pulled his arms back to himself and stepped back once, and then again just to be sure. “I have to go pack,” Kris mumbled quickly before turning to leave, trying to ignore the confused puppy look that Zhang Yixing was giving him.

Alone in his car, he leaned his forehead on the top of his steering wheel, his hand over his the left part of his chest, breathing deeply trying to slow the beating he felt under his fingertips. _What are you, Zhang Yixing?_

…

“I don’t believe you’re on the guest list.” Kris flashed his badge at the man he recognized to be Luhan, who sighed heavily in recognition, “How can I help you, sir?”

“We’d like to have a couple words with you, _in private_?” Kris answered, referring to the upscale event that was being held at the banquet hall.

“Well, I’m actually in the middle of entertaining. Can’t it wait?” Luhan asked, smiling prettily with one hand holding a flute of champagne delicately.

Luhan looked even more doll-like in person, which only pissed Kris off more. The long flight he’d taken to Vancouver had been delayed and the local police unit had been less than compliant, making him in no mood to be accommodating in any way. “No, it can’t.”

“Fine,” the smile on Luhan’s face disappeared immediately, “Just give me a minute.”

Kris growled, and if it hadn’t been for Zitao’s hand on his arm holding him back, reminding him of the warnings Kris’ superior had made about addressing someone as important as the heir to Lu Xia Corp., he may have grabbed Luhan aggressively and just shoved him into the backseat of his car. Instead, Kris watched as Luhan asked for everyone’s attention on stage with a mic.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have been called away on urgent matters that require my immediate attention. Please feel free to enjoy the rest of your night!” Luhan announced, all with a friendly smile that made Kris sick to his stomach.

“What is this in regards to?” Luhan asked when the trio (along with a couple of Luhan’s personal guards) had stepped outside.

“Do you recognize this man?” Kris pulled the picture of the couple from his pocket, earning him a look from Zitao. Kris returned one that said Zitao could hassle him later.

“No, can't say I do.”

“You do realise that lying to an officer is an offense.”

Luhan smiled again, making Kris wonder how many times he’d practiced his diplomatic smile. “ _Sir_ , I’d like to know what this is about.”

“Your name has been connected to a homicide two days ago.”

Kris watched as Luhan’s eyebrows went up in genuine surprise and disbelief before he got his expression under control again. “I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.”

“And I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to come with us,” Kris answered, motioning towards his car.

Luhan scowled as much as pretty face like his could and turned to one of the men outside with them, “Call the lawyer.”

…

Kris ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he reread the interrogation notes in front of him. Luhan had barely been in custody a few hours before they had to let him go, based on an alibi (with more than a handful of witnesses) that put him at another banquet in Canada the night of the murder, which meant he couldn’t have been on the other side of the world killing Kim Minseok. In addition, he’d been living in the United States for the past five years with no long term stays outside of the continent. Luhan and his lawyer were finishing up with the paperwork at the table across from Kris right now.

What bothered Kris was not that the case was becoming more convoluted, but because Yixing had clearly lied to Kris.

“Is that everything, then?” Luhan asked, still wearing his practiced smile.

“Yes, sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Lu,” replied the officer who’d been assigned the sign-out.

Kris stood up quickly, making the legs on this chair scratch against the floor loudly and catching Luhan’s attention, “So the name Zhang Yixing rings no bells at all?” he tried, hopelessly.

“You don’t have to answer that, Luhan,” the lawyer deflected for Luhan.

“No, wait. I want to,” Luhan objected, “How do you know that name?”

Kris raised an eyebrow; he hadn’t been expecting an actual response from Luhan. “Do you know him?”

“I knew _a_ Zhang Yixing, but I can’t be sure we’re talking about the same person. He and I were good friends in high school.”

That bit of Yixing’s story matched up, but then again, it was a vague description. “He was in the music department and you were more in the business area?” Kris tried, hoping that this part was also true. “You wanted to learn more about music so you enlisted his help…”

Luhan’s eyes flickered with something close to panic as he eyed his lawyer sideways. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that it’s the same person.” He stood up, followed closely by his lawyer, “If anything comes up though, I’ll be sure to contact you, Detective Wu. Perhaps you could give me your business card?”

Kris crinkled his forehead but reached for his pocket all the same, handing Luhan a white card with his contact information. It seemed strange to him that Luhan was asking the officer who had just accused him of murder for his business card. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Lu.”

…

Kris sat in his hotel room with a glass of scotch and stared at his laptop screen, opened to his business email. Amidst all the garbage from his co-workers, one address stood out in particular: **luhan@luxia.com**. _Why on earth would Luhan be emailing me_ , he thought as he clicked open the message.

_Detective Wu,_

_I know this may be a surprising email to you, given what happened today. I’d like to clarify things that I said back at the station._

_The lawyer that was with me is loyal only to my father, and he was bound to report everything back to him, and I am ashamed to say that there are things in my past that I’d like to keep to myself. First off, yes, the Zhang Yixing you spoke of was the one that I had known in high school. I could not confirm this in front of the lawyer, as he would have told my father about my interests in a “useless field like music”. You must understand, I live a very structured life, and I am always being watched, by my father, by my board of directors, by business partners, current and potential. I can’t afford, with my position, to have such “unprofitable” connections as they are weaknesses my enemies will prey on._

_Yes, Xing and I were good friends until I had to move away. When I first met him, he had been bullied because of his size, and I stood up for him, at first because I wanted his help, but then because I realised he was just a good kid who wanted to do what he loved most. He didn’t have a lot of friends, and to be honest, I was probably his only friend and he stuck to me a lot. I had a weak spot for characters like him, so I protected him. When I had to leave for the States, Xingxing had been mad at me for what he thought was abandonment. I didn’t correct him because I thought it’d be easier for him to let go of me. He ignored me and didn’t come say goodbye when I had to leave._

_From the way you knew about the relationship between Xing and myself, I take it that you’ve met him, so you know what I mean when I say he’s someone who needs to be looked after. Please, take care of him for me, because my current position prevents me from doing so. Protect him._

_Sincerely,  
Luhan_

Kris lowered his glass onto the table beside his laptop, the ice clinking against the side of the glass as he tried to process what he’d just read. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the sick feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach: the fact that Yixing was now an official suspect, the fact that Luhan had used the nickname ‘Xingxing’, or that fact that it bothered him that Luhan had used the nickname ‘Xingxing”.

Kris wandered over to his hotel bed and fell backwards onto it, bouncing a couple times as he stared at the ceiling, an image of a dimpled smile with squinted eyes forming on the white backdrop. Kris groaned as he checked his watch, still displaying the time from back home with its blue dials. It’d been just under a week since he’d been assigned this case, and subsequently met Yixing, so how had the guy managed to infiltrate his every thought?

“What are you, Zhang Yixing?” he asked again, this time out loud to the unresponsive room around him.

A knock sounded at the door, and Kris was thankful for the distraction. It was Zitao, carrying his laptop and a handful of files to go over their day’s work.

Zitao welcomed himself into the room when Kris opened the door. “Got a call from HQ about forensics on the fingerprints they found in Luhan’s apartment,” he reported, immediately getting down to business, “There were only two sets of prints present in the whole damn place,” he paused to put down his things on a table. “Kim Minseok’s and Zhang Yixing’s.”

Kris closed his eyes; he’d hoped against his hunch that he had been wrong, but what Zitao said now only confirmed it. “Right, and we know that Zhang Yixing was good friends with Luhan, which would explain why his prints are all over Luhan’s apartment. And Kim Minseok, well, we know their relationship too.”

Zitao looked up from his laptop to shoot Kris a disbelieving stare, “Look, there is no Luhan. That Zhang Yixing bastard probably hated Luhan and wanted to frame him for killing someone. The motive is still the unanswered part though. You knew from the beginning though, right? Isn’t that why you had me pull his file?”

Kris’ forehead crinkled as he recalled what Jongdae had said. Kim Minseok and Luhan had been together, showing up at soccer games for at least six months. What sort of vendetta did Yixing have with Luhan to want to spend over half a year setting up the crime? No, it was more than half a year; Yixing had rented out the apartment below his for over a year now.

The innocent image of Yixing smiling kept popping in his head, a constant reminder of Kris’ gut feeling that Yixing was innocent. Or maybe he just _wanted_ Yixing to be innocent. Kris sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Look, can we go over this tomorrow? I’m having a hard time digesting everything right now, not to mention I’m experiencing some major jetlag.”

Zitao looked at Kris with scepticism plain in his eyes, “Sir? I mean, Kris? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” Kris rummaged through his bag searching for his painkillers. “Can we go over this on the plane back home?” Kris shifted uncomfortably when Zitao maintained his sceptical look, “I’m _fine_. Now get out of my room so I can get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With a defeated expression, Zitao packed up his things and left Kris alone with his thoughts. Filling a glass with water, Kris swallowed a couple of painkillers and laid down on his back on his bed. In truth, he wasn’t actually tired, his head was still reeling from the information dump he’d received today, mostly because now it meant that Yixing was his primary suspect, but he refused to acknowledge it. There was just no way that someone who could smile as innocently as Yixing could do what Tao was implying.

What Kris wanted to do most was call Jongdae and ask for his advice, but he was never good at asking for help. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and stared at it, contemplating calling his best friend. What was he going to say though? ‘Hey, Jongdae. Oh, my social life? It’s going great. In fact, I think I may be crushing on someone. Oh and that case I was talking to you about? Yeah, turns out we were looking for the wrong person. Did I mention that my crush is now my primary suspect?’ Kris turned over and groaned into a pillow at how incredibly juvenile the fake conversation sounded in his head.

His head was still overflowing with all the ways that Yixing could actually be innocent when his phone rang. _Incoming call: Kim Jongdae._ Kris smiled at the idea that Jongdae might be psychic and knew when exactly Kris wanted to talk to him. “What’s up?”

“God, why do you sound like hell?”

Kris scowled, “I’ve said two words, how can you even tell I sound like hell?”

Jongdae chuckled, “And now you’ve said ten, and they’ve confirmed my point. Again, why do you sound like hell. Case going that badly?”

Kris suddenly didn’t feel like talking about the case, didn’t feel like sharing that he was trying to find every possible scenario in which an obvious suspect was actually not guilty. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he answered simply, though he doubted Jongdae would be distracted for very long, “Why are you calling? How’s business?”

“Better than I’d thought, actually. I’ll be back in town earlier than expected. I’m at the airport now, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and since I had a lot of time to kill, I drew something up for you. Check your inbox. It’s what I could remember about your Luhan guy, and I hope it helps.”

Kris swallowed nervously as he made his way over to his computer. He didn’t have to open Jongdae’s email to know what he would find; Jongdae had just sent him an artist’s sketch of Zhang Yixing.

Kris collapsed into the nearest chair. All the arrows hopelessly pointed toward Yixing.

“Hey, Kris, you still there?”

Kris opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Alright, well I’ve gotta go check in. I’ll see you when I get back. And don’t stress too much over your case. It’s just a job.”

 _Yeah_ , Kris thought to himself, _Just a job._ He turned off the lights in his room and crawled under the sheets, making a promise to himself to _keep it professional_ when he returned home and arrested Zhang Yixing.

The thought wasn’t very appealing.

…

The first thing Kris did when he got home at night was dive into his car and pull out the file on Zhang Yixing that he’d left in the glove compartment. _For background purposes_.

There wasn’t much there except for a couple admittances to the emergency room due to injuries from battering, most likely due to the bullying Luhan had mentioned. As a side note, the page added that Zhang Yixing was haemophiliac, making his stays at the hospital longer than typical for injuries like his. His parents passed when he was child and had lived with his grandmother ever since. She too passed away, just over a year ago. Like Zhang Yixing had told Kris, he was currently an instructor at a dance studio, and had held several contracts with big celebrities in the past.

Kris’ fingers hovered over the attached picture of Zhang Yixing. He hated himself for getting tricked by that innocent-looking face. Tearing it out from under the paperclip, he tore the picture in half, angry at himself that he couldn’t even hate the guy properly despite all the lies. He threw the file down into the passenger seat and stuck his keys into the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He was going to arrest the liar, and he was going to do it now.

When he showed up at Yixing’s apartment though, Kris couldn’t even get out of the car. His rage have developed into a fear that he’d cave in Yixing’s presence, unable to do what he’d come here to do in the first place when the chestnut haired male flashed him that dimpled smile.

He pounded the wheel with his fist, _Goddammit, I’m a_ cop _. This is my_ job _. We don’t fraternize with criminals._ With that resolve, he climbed out of his car and marched towards the door of the dimly lit apartment. He raised his hand to knock on the door but fell short.

_Coward._

Kris laughed at himself as he lowered his hand to his side again. Maybe he was bipolar, having these endless arguments in his head. He turned around and leaned on Yixing’s door with his eyes closed. Perhaps he should just turn in his badge now before things got out of hand.

All of a sudden, the door opened and Kris found himself falling backwards.

“Oh my god!” the familiar voice exclaimed as Kris tried to regain his balance. “Kris? What are you-?”

On his feet again, Kris turned around to face Yixing after taking in a deep breath. Yixing was wearing only a belted pair of jeans and was holding a bag of trash that he shoved haphazardly into the garbage can beside the door. “I, uh…” Kris didn’t bother trying to come up with a legitimate excuse for why he had been leaning on Yixing’s door. The fact that Yixing was topless certainly wasn’t helping to unleaden Kris’ tongue.

Yixing looked up at Kris from under his bangs with worried eyes, “Are you okay?”

“I’m uh…” _fine_ certainly wasn’t the right word, and Kris didn’t bother finding searching for a more suitable adjective, letting the silence hang awkwardly between them instead.

“Do you want to come in?” Yixing’s concern was evident in his voice.

“Uh,” _Goddammit, Kris, is that the only sound you know how to make?!_

Yixing grabbed Kris’ arm and pulled him inside anyway, leading him towards the couch again. “I’m just going into the kitchen to boil some water, okay?”

Under normal circumstances, Kris would have scowled at the belittling tone Yixing was using with him, treating him like a defenseless child. These were not the most normal of circumstances.

With Yixing out of the room, Kris tried logic again. _I’m here to profile my suspect. That is all._ Kris thought to himself that he was likely to conveniently forget to hit the ON button on his recorder later.

“Here, have this,” Yixing returned with a mug of something steaming and placed it between Kris’ hands, their fingers brushing a brief moment, “It’s chamomile.” Yixing sat down next to Kris on the couch, as he did during Kris’ last visit, only this time, he wasn’t nearly as distanced away.

A silent alarm went off in the back of Kris’ mind alerting him that he could have just been offered a cup of poison but he ignored it; he was probably about to get fired anyway when his superiors found out what he was doing, and death seemed like an easier option.

“So, what happened? Did you find Luhan?” Yixing asked hopefully, as only Yixing could.

Kris nodded.

“Did he say when he was coming back?” Excited, Yixing shuffled closer to Kris, close enough that their knees knocked together a couple of times. Kris let him.

“Luhan’s kind of, uhm, busy at the moment, so he’s not sure when he’ll be back.” Kris decided he’d play along for the time being, at least until he could figure out Yixing’s endgame.

“Did you tell him I missed him?”

Kris nodded and tried his best to smile honestly, “Yeah. He said he misses you too.” He couldn’t help the pang in his chest when he saw the wide smile on Yixing’s face at the news that _Luhan_ said he missed Yixing.

Something didn’t add up. If Yixing was, as Zitao speculated, on a vendetta against Luhan, he should have known that if Kris went to see Luhan, the truth would come out. He should have skipped town, not sit around at home continuing on as if nothing happened. Why was he still playing the innocent boy who missed his best friend?

Kris suddenly recalled the last line from Luhan’s email: _Please, take care of him. Protect him._ If Zitao told anyone at the office when they turned into work the next day, Yixing was bound to be arrested. “Hey,” Kris started, catching the younger’s attention, “Yixing…” Yixing’s eyes softened, though Kris never thought it would be possible for them to be any softer than they were already. “What?” he asked abruptly, instead of finishing his thought.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me that,” He flashed another one of his dazzling smiles with the twinkle in his eyes.

Kris swallowed, aware of his initial assessment of what Yixing’s twinkling eyes meant. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed for having called Yixing outloud, even after having called him without his surname in his own head for the past seventy-two hours already, or for being the subject for the twinkle in Yixing’s eyes. He chose, as he often did, to ignore the entire thing and proceed with what he’d been saying before. “How do you feel about leaving town for a bit?”

Yixing pulled away from Kris, “What?”

“I mean, don’t you have friends that you could vacation with?”

“I… I don’t really have friends.” Yixing looked down at his fingers sheepishly, pulling at loose threads in the seat covers, “I have, or had I guess, Luhan, and now you.”

“Then how about you and me, then?”

Yixing looked up, “Really?”

“Yeah. Isn’t there somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit? We could go.”

Yixing grinned, “I’ve always wanted to see London.”

“Perfect!”

“For how long though?”

“As long as you want.” _And long enough for me to find a way out of this._ “Now go pack your things. I’ll wait for you out here.”

“No.”

“No?” Kris’ voice was smaller than it had been two seconds ago. Yixing couldn’t just say no; Kris _had_ to get him out of the country, or Yixing was going to be behind bars.

“You have to help me! I’ve never been to England so how do I know what to pack? And how am I going to learn English in such a short time?”

Kris let out a sigh of relief. “You’ll be fine. I’ll teach you some on the flight over.”

“Fine, but you still have to help me pack.” Yixing took Kris’ hand and dragged him towards his bedroom. Once inside, Kris had to take a moment to absorb the mess that was Yixing’s room. An acoustic guitar sat in its stand in the corner with sheet music scattered on the floor around it. Clothes were tossed left and right and a giant stuffed unicorn sat on the edge of his queen sized bed. Kris couldn’t help but laugh out loud before Yixing had to punch him in the side to get Kris to help him pack his luggage.

…

“Hey, Yixing, you alright in there?” Kris knocked on the hotel bathroom door again, half leaning on the doorframe as he waited for an answer.

Yixing had slept through the entire plane ride (something Kris never found possible to do himself, even after taking sleeping agents) and had wanted to take a shower as soon as Kris had checked into their double room. ( _Two beds_ , Kris had thought to himself when they had arrived at the hotel reception _, it would be best if there were two separate beds_.)

Before Kris could get an answer from Yixing, his phone vibrated in his pocket; it was a call from Zitao, his fifth one since Kris had turned on his phone when he got off the plane. Just like the four calls before it, Kris ignored this one, and also decided to turn off his phone to divert all future calls straight to his voicemail. He was bound to get hell for it at a later time, but right now, Yixing had become his priority. Luhan’s words had become like a mantra to him, _Protect him._

As Kris tossed his darkened phone onto the bed, the bathroom door finally opened and Yixing stepped out, changed into a tank top and shorts, walking past him and sitting with his knees to his chest on the bed closest to the window, looking out the large window.

“Yixing?” Kris asked tentatively, sitting across from him on his own bed, closer to the door.

Yixing kept his head turned away from Kris and continued staring out the window.

“Yixing?” Kris asked again, sliding to the edge of the bed to get up.

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Yixing said, still staring out the window.

Kris had only a leg swung over the bed when Yixing had finally spoken up, and he held the awkward position, having been caught off guard with the question, “What?”

Yixing finally turned to face Kris again, “I said, how long do you think you can keep this up?”

“I-,” Kris started, as if he had an answer, crinkling his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“What’s your _plan_ , Kris? You got Xingxing out of the country, bought some time, but you know they’re bound to come after him.”

“Plan?” Kris had no plan, he was winging it. _Wait, did Yixing just refer to himself as_ Xingxing _?_ When did he start talking in the third person? Kris looked up at Yixing, studying his delicate facial features. The eyes, the nose, the mouth, and everything else belonged to Yixing, but at the same time, didn’t. Where had he seen those hardened eyes and practiced smile before? Where had he heard the term Xingxing before?

 “Lu… Luhan?” Kris asked hesitantly, to confirm his hunch.

The corners of Yixing’s mouth turned up, “Ah, you’re smarter than you look, Detective.”

 _How were there_ two _Luhans?_

A laugh erupted out of Yixing’s mouth but it wasn’t the same one that could make Kris’ stomach flip inside out. “I can see the gears in your head spinning out of control, Detective. Why don’t you vocalize all those questions? I know you’re _dying_ to.”

Kris didn’t even know where to start. How was he supposed to deal with this… whatever this was? Did Yixing even exist? “What… How… Why… _How_?” was all he could muster.

There was a lot about ‘Luhan’ that was making the hairs on the back of Kris’ arm stand on end, but mostly it was the way he grinned shrewdly with Yixing’s mouth. “All such wonderfully formed questions, Detective,” he mocked. “How about I start you off?” He crossed his legs under himself, leaning backwards on his arms, a posture that Kris couldn’t imagine the business version of Luhan ever pulling.

“For starters, this body does legally belong to Zhang Yixing, I just happened to start sharing it recently, about a year ago. I’m assuming that you’ve already been through Yixing's file, so you know about Yixing’s difficult childhood. Losing one’s parents certainly isn’t an easy feat to overcome. Luckily for Yixing, he had his grandmother after the accident, and then Luhan when he entered high school. Unluckily for him, Luhan abandoned ship and then a few years later, he lost the one connection to family he had, his grandmother.”

Kris remembered reading everything ‘Luhan’ was telling him. “It was just over a year ago that his grandmother passed away…” He pondered out loud. _Right around the time Luhan moved in next to Yixing..._

“Correct. I knew you could do it, Detective. Yes, Yixing thought he got his high school best friend back when Luhan started writing him letters about his return. Soon enough, Yixing was writing cute notes back and forth with Luhan, who was of course, a very busy man who only came home from work late at night, leaving before Yixing could catch him when he woke up.

 _Dual personalities_ , Kris concluded. Was this version of Luhan that Yixing’s mind had procured based on the version he’d known in high school? It would certainly explain why Yixing had believed that Luhan had come back and was living in the apartment next to his. His detective instincts, however, reminded him that plenty of criminals had tried to plead insanity when cornered into confession, though _cornered_ wasn’t exactly what Kris would have used to describe their situation.

“And Kim Minseok?” Kris asked quizzically.

“Ah,” ‘Luhan’ sighed, a sliver of genuine sadness passing in front of his eyes before it disappeared again, “Him I actually liked. You know, having a full time job of protecting our precious Xingxing can actually be kind of tiring. And a lot boring sometimes. Minseokie was a good person and his death was certainly not planned. But I was careless. He learned about Yixing without having seen his face about a month ago, which at first, hadn’t been a problem because he’d just assumed I was cheating on him. I convinced him otherwise and that was that. Except one time, during the day, he decided to come visit me. Surely, you can guess what happened.”

“He saw Yixing and thought it was you.”

‘Luhan’ drew his knees to himself again with a small nod and a far off look that reminded Kris that this was still Yixing’s body. “Minseokie had started to piece things together for himself. He wanted to break up with me, and talk to Yixing, to _tell him_ about me. ‘You’re not being fair to Zhang Yixing,’ Minseokie’d said, and I knew he’d actually meant that I wasn’t being fair to _him_.

“But you see, Detective, I couldn’t let him do it. Xingxing needs me more. He _needs_ me. And Minseokie was going to go and tear his world apart. _I couldn’t let him do it_ , Detective.”

“So you killed him.” Kris concluded for him.

“I didn’t want to! I lo-,” he shouted animatedly, pausing in mid-word. Choosing his words more carefully with a calmer tone, he continued, “He was an important person to me, but it had to be done. Then I had to call it in; I couldn’t just leave his body to rot in the apartment.”

Yixing’s eyes started to water and Kris had to remind himself that it was ‘Luhan’, a probably hostile character he didn’t understand. Still, the sight gave Kris an unpleasant feeling; he didn’t like seeing tears in Yixing’s eyes. Kris balled his fingers into a fist to control himself, nails digging into his palm.

‘Luhan’ wiped away a tear angrily, leaving a wet sideways streak across Yixing’s right cheek. “Now you know what I’m willing to do to make sure Yixing stays safe, so consider this my official warning to you. I’m not stupid, I can see that’s what you’re trying to do too, and Yixing seems to trust you so I’ll give you some time to figure out an answer to my question for you.” He started to pull himself under the covers of the bed, lying his head down on the fluffy pillows, wearing his signature smile again, “Good night, Detective. I will see you tomorrow,” and then he closed his eyes.

Kris waited for Yixing’s breathing to even out before he dared to move. Lowering both legs onto the floor, he dropped his head into his hands. The question he’d been asking himself since he decided to step into Yixing’s home last night repeated in his head again, _What are you doing, Kris_? He was in way over his head, and a homicidal and overprotective dual personality had definitely not been something he could have foreseen. Sighing, Kris looked up at the sleeping Yixing, his face still glistening from the tears that ‘Luhan’ had shed. Kris stood up and crossed the short distance between the two beds and sat down on Yixing’s bed, allowing himself to reach out and wipe away a tear on the cheek that was closest to him.

At Kris’ touch, Yixing flinched and his eyes shot open, making Kris pull back quickly. “Yixing?” he asked, cautiously.

“Mmm. did I fall asleep?” Yixing asked, stretching his arms and pulling himself into a seated position before he realised his face was wet. He reached up to wipe his eyes. “Oh, sorry,” he said hurriedly, wiping his face furiously, “Must have had a bad dream.”

Kris grabbed Yixing’s hands, pulling them down so he could look into Yixing’s face clearly, “Yixing?” he asked again, with more optimism.

Pulling his arms back to himself, Yixing looked at Kris like he was an alien, “Uh, Kris? Are you feeling okay?” He reached out to place the back his hand on Kris’ forehead to check his temperature.

Kris cleared his throat and raised a hand to the back of his neck nervously, “Yeah. I’m just tired I guess.” He felt a smile widen across his face as he relaxed his shoulders.

Yixing laughed, a laugh that Kris hadn’t realised he had missed. “Of course it’s Yixing. Who else could it be?”

Kris smiled again but didn’t answer the question. Kris followed Yixing’s perplexed gaze to his own hand that he had placed on the side of Yixing that was opposite from the side he was sitting on. Realising the implied intimacy between him and Yixing that the position gave, he pulled his arm back and stood up quickly. “You should get some rest,” he covered, picking up his bag from the ground and throwing it onto his bed so he could rummage through it easier. It was the same bag that he’d had when he’d gone to Canada, dirty clothes and all. He hadn’t had the time to go home, having decided instead, to go straight to Yixing’s when he had landed. He pulled out the case for his glasses, along with the kit where he kept everything he needed for his contact lenses. Kris ducked into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him as he started to remove his contacts in front of the mirror.

“Hey, Kris?” Kris made a sound to confirm that he was listening. “I think I had a dream about you just now.”

Kris nearly made himself blind in one eye, making him curse profusely.

“You okay, Kris?” Yixing asked in an alarmed voice.

Kris blinked a couple of times to help the pain recede before pulling out the second lens he had been wearing, “Yeah, hand slipped is all.” He put on his glasses, tucked away his things back into the kit and walked back into the room. “What was the dream about?”

“Luhan was there too. Actually, I think you two were in this room here.”

Kris’s hands stopped moving and he was thankful that his back was facing Yixing, or he might’ve given away his surprise. “Yeah?” he prompted when he composed himself, putting away his case and turning to face Yixing again.

“Yeah. And you two were just talking.”

“What about?” Kris asked carefully as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Yixing shrugged cutely, “Dunno. I don’t remember. Seemed important though.”

Yixing’s brow furrowed as if remembering something, bringing his hands to his head as if in pain. Kris was sitting next to Yixing on his bed again in a flash. “You okay?”

Yixing looked at Kris with a muddled expression that disappeared when Kris looked closer, “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s nothing,” and then mumbled as if to himself, his eyes distant. “Just a dream is all. Wasn’t real.”

Before Kris knew what he was doing, his hand was brushing away a stray hair on Yixing’s face. “Yeah, just a dream,” he confirmed in a comforting tone. Yixing’s alter ego was right, it was likely Yixing might break if he knew his best friend wasn’t actually back from the States, and that the person he created in his head had killed someone.

Yixing looked up at Kris and blinked blankly and Kris had to remind himself that there had been a reason why he had requested two beds for the room, even if he couldn’t remember what it was at the moment. “You should get some rest,” he repeated, but still letting his finger continue to linger on Yixing’s face.

“Yeah?” Yixing grinned impishly, “You already used that excuse five minutes ago.” Yixing reached up to Kris’ hand and closed his fingers around it, never taking his gaze off Kris’.

 “Did I?” Kris replied, voice dipping just above a whisper. He’d already thrown caution to the wind when he willingly got on that plane with a criminal, so why not just blow logic completely to pieces? _If you’re going to do it wrong, do it right_. Kris grinned at the comment as he leaned forwards to kiss Yixing lightly on the lips. And then again, with more greed that Yixing willingly gave into, wrapping his arms around Kris’ neck when Kris wrapped his around Yixing’s waist.

_Yeah, pretty sure that second bed was for our bags._


	3. Chapter 3

Kris woke up before Yixing the next morning with a feeling of dread as he slipped into the shower. Yixing’s alternate personality was right about one thing: the police were bound to come after Yixing and himself when they found out where the couple had disappeared off to. Knowing his team, it was only a matter of time before they caught up to them.  
  
Wrapping his bathrobe around him and wiping droplets of water from his hair, Kris slipped back under the covers next to Yixing (who was still sleeping with his back towards Kris), distracting himself from his own thoughts by staring at the nape of Yixing’s neck. He propped himself up with one arm so he could look down at Yixing and traced his finger along Yixing’s jaw bone, pausing whenever his finger reached an acne scar, probably from his adolescent years. Kris grinned, trying to imagine what Yixing had been like as a teenager – would Kris have liked him all the same if he had met Yixing then?  
  
Yixing stirred, but didn’t wake, when Kris rested his chin in the space on Yixing’s neck between his ear and shoulder. Despite having claimed Yixing as his own last night, Kris couldn’t ignore the annoying voice in his head that asked if ‘Luhan’ and Kim Minseok had already soiled Yixing’s innocent body, especially given that Yixing had proven that he could be a maddening tease when he put his mind to it. It certainly didn’t help Kris’ emotions that he still had ‘Luhan’’s obvious threat towards him last night on his mind.  
  
Kris sighed, probably too loudly because Yixing’s eyelids fluttered open. “Did I wake you?” Kris whispered, brushing the hair out of Yixing’s eyes.  
  
“Yeah, but you can make up for it later,” Yixing answered, turning his whole body around so he could face Kris properly. “You hungry? Because I am _starving_.”  
  
Kris grinned as he bent down to kiss the tip of Yixing’s nose. “What do you feel like having?”  
  
“Waffles,” Yixing answered quickly with a playful smile, “And then maybe some Kris. Or the other way around, I’m not picky.”  
  
Kris chuckled, playing with Yixing’s hair, “I think the hotel’s got a restaurant downstairs. And didn’t you say you wanted to see London? You’re certainly not going to see London if you stay cooped up in this hotel room.”  
  
Yixing pouted, snuggling closer into Kris’ chest, “Yeah, but that was before you kissed me last night.”  
  
Kris laughed again (he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much in so little time) and jokingly pushed Yixing off the bed, “Just go get dressed, will you?”  
  
After he’d managed to untangle himself from the blankets, Yixing stood up, wearing only Kris’ dress shirt from last night, buttoned incorrectly so that the bottom on one side was significantly longer than on the other. Kris tried not to think about how cute Yixing looked in his shirt (obviously several sizes too large on him), sticking out his tongue at Kris before he disappeared into the bathroom after grabbing some clothes from his luggage. “Sure you don’t want to come join me in the shower?” Yixing asked just as he started closing the door.  
  
Kris picked up the pillow Yixing had just vacated and threw it towards the bathroom, hitting the door with a light _thud_ when Yixing closed it quickly with a giggle. Shaking his head, Kris hopped off the bed to look for something clean to wear himself. He found, and slipped into, a semi-wrinkled V-neck plain black t-shirt that was the only top that didn’t smell questionable and a pair of blue jeans. He dumped the rest of the contents of his luggage into the white laundry bag the hotel provided and tossed in the clothes scattered across the room from last night as well, making a mental note to tip house-keeping extra.  
  
He put on his glasses again, pocketed his wallet, grabbed his keys and paused with his hand hovering over his phone. It was still turned off from last night and if Kris was being honest, he’d hoped that he’d never have to turn it on again and just stay in London with Yixing, or anywhere in the world for that matter, without worrying about the police catching up with them. Kris sighed as pushed the power button, finally acknowledging that running away wasn’t the answer. As soon as the screen blinked to life, the phone beeped several times, advising Kris that he had several text and voicemail messages, most of which came from Zitao, with a couple from Jongdae dispersed here and there. The most recent of Zitao’s crazed texts read: “ _I probably shouldn’t even be warning you, but we already know you’re in London. Perhaps you should be more careful with your credit card. I’d say you’ve got about 24 hours.”_ The timestamp on the message was useless, showing the time when Kris turned his phone on, which meant Kris had no idea when the 24-hour clock had started.  
  
A pair of arms wrapped around Kris’ waist, and he felt Yixing tiptoe so he could rest his chin on Kris’ shoulder. He instinctively hit the back button on his phone to hide the message, and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans.  
  
“What was that?” Yixing asked interestedly.  
  
Kris shrugged, “Nothing, just work stuff.” He turned around so he could throw his arm around Yixing’s shoulder, “Ready to head out?”  
  
Kris and Yixing spent most of the day hitting up the most popular tourist attractions in the city, where Yixing made Kris take pictures of him posing goofily in front of important structures, like Westminster Abbey, donning a stupid felt hat with the Union Jack design all over it. Halfway through the day, Yixing had stopped by a trinket shop, purchasing a plush dragon keychain that he insisted reminded him of Kris. Citing that it was tacky and didn’t match anything he owned, Kris had protested with a scowl when Yixing demanded that Kris used it, but when Yixing got distracted by a cart selling  colourful helium balloons, Kris had quietly slipped it onto his set of keys before stuffing the whole thing into his jacket pocket, out of sight.  
  
Every purchase that Kris made with his credit card reminded him that he was most likely being tracked, but he had little cash, and if this was his last day as a free man, he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted, with Yixing by his side. Besides, it was likely that ‘Luhan’ had already come up with a plan to remove Kris from Yixing’s life anyway, so there was little harm in dropping a couple of hints for his team back home.  
  
…  
  
“Oof! What a day!” Yixing fell backwards onto his hotel bed with his arms extended on both sides. Kris, on the other hand, was far less relaxed, having taken a seat in one of the cushioned chairs in the room. He glanced at his watch nervously, how had he managed to pass an entire day so quickly? This time yesterday, Yixing had been in the shower, and Kris had been about to meet Yixing’s hostile other half.  
  
“Tired?” Kris asked Yixing, his mind only half paying attention to his words.  
  
“Yeah, but in a good way,” Yixing responded, turning over on his stomach, propped up by his elbows, so he could turn his head to face Kris.  
  
“Then you should get some rest.”  
  
Yixing grinned playfully, “Yes, and we remember how that ended last night, right?” Yixing yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
“See?” Kris pointed, “You’re tired. Go to bed. I’ll be right here.” Yixing had already crossed his arms under his head, eyes drifting closed. Kris stared at Yixing’s sleeping body a moment before heading towards the fridge, glad that he’d booked a room at a hotel that came fully stocked with a mini-bar. He grabbed the closest can of beer, didn’t bother looking at the label and cracked it open. As an afterthought, he grabbed another before closing the door again. He settled down into the chair again and waited.  
  
It wasn’t long before Yixing opened his eyes again, and this time, Kris knew what to expect. “Drink?” he tossed the unopened can in ‘Luhan’’s direction once he was in an upright position.  
  
“Xingxing doesn’t drink.”  
  
Kris smiled miserably, “Yes, but I do, and if I have to get through another conversation with you, I’m going to need it. And that guy that goes to bars with his boyfriend to watch soccer games on the big screen does too.”  
  
‘Luhan’ scowled, but complied. “So, have you figured out what your next lie to Yixing is going to be?” he asked bitingly.  
  
“No, I don’t want to lie to him any more,” Kris answered, resolutely.  
  
‘Luhan’ glared to Kris. “Well, what _do_ you want, then?”  
  
“To tell him the truth,” Kris gripped his can tightly, knowing full well what had happened to the last person who had suggested telling Yixing the truth about himself. But Kris was out of options, and he could practically hear the sirens that were coming for them in his head.  
  
‘Luhan’ looked at Kris with disbelieving eyes and a chortle as he stood up and stepped towards Kris, “You’re kidding.”  
  
Kris looked up from his seat, “No, I’m serious. What right do you have to keep lying to him?”  
  
“What right do I have? I’m the one who’s been keeping him smiling, haven’t I? He hasn’t cried ever since Luhan came back into his life! I’ve been there for him every day, cheering him up when he lost his grandmother, making sure he took his medications when he came down with the flu, sending him positive notes every day, reminding him to be happy.”  
  
“Yeah? Then where have you been ever since you killed Kim Minseok? You’re not blind to him like he is to you; you know what is happening on the other side of the fence. You lost your boyfriend, so you just decided to go to sleep for a while, and let Yixing worry about you. Is that what a good friend does? Are you sure he’s the one that needs you and not the other way around? You’ve been away a whole damn week and it seems Yixing is perfectly fine without you intervening all the time."  
  
“That's _your_ fault! Ever since you showed up, it’s been a challenge coming out at night! I can’t even see half the things he does during the day anymore!”  
  
“He’s fighting you, isn’t he?” Kris' voice lowered in realisation, recalling how Yixing seemed to space out sometimes, and last night, when he had remembered the "dream" Luhan and Kris. “He doesn’t need you any more.”  
  
“Shut _up_!” ‘Luhan’ threw his can at a hanging abstract picture, making it fall to the ground and shattering the glass into the amber liquid flowing freely from the aluminium can, “That is _not_ true!” ‘Luhan’ lowered into a crouch with his hands over his ears as if to block out all noise.  
  
“Then why hasn’t he mentioned your name at all in the last 48 hours that he’s been with me? Not a single peep.  Are you sure he hasn’t already grown out of you?”  
  
‘Luhan’ was suddenly back on his feet, a shard of broken glass in his hand, taking slow but determined steps towards Kris, “It’s you. You’re the problem. With you out of the picture, Yixing and I will be best friends again and everything will be back to normal.”  
  
Kris had not planned to get into an argument with a volatile character like ‘Luhan’, but the anxiety he’d been feeling all day needed an outlet. Perhaps, he thought dryly, ‘Luhan’ hadn’t been the best recipient of his resentment, perhaps Kris had pushed him too far. Kris swallowed hard as he watched ‘Luhan’ advance on him. Kris wasn’t particularly concerned about ‘Luhan’’s ill intentions towards himself, but rather was focused instead on the firm grip that ‘Luhan’ had around the jagged edge of glass. Yixing’s blood dripped steadily onto the carpet and if it continued to do so for much longer, there wouldn’t be a Yixing for ‘Luhan’ and Kris to fight over.  
  
“Look,” Kris dropped his drink and his volume and raised his hands up as a replacement for the white flag he did not have to wave. “I’ll promise to leave Yixing alone if you just drop the piece of glass.”  
  
‘Luhan’ smirked, unaware of the real cause for Kris’ sudden change in approach, “Oh, so you _do_ know how to value your life.” His grip remained solid, and Kris wondered if ‘Luhan’ couldn’t feel pain. “Too bad the time for negotiations is over. You can go tell Minseokie how sorry I am that we had to end the way we did.”  
  
“Please,” Kris could only watch helplessly as Yxing’s blood started to flow more freely from his hand, “Please, just drop the piece of glass and you can do whatever you want with me,” he pleaded, his voice getting caught in his larynx, “Yixing… Yixing has haemophilia,” he whispered as he fell to his knees, “ _Please._ ”  
  
“Huhn,” ‘Luhan’ looked down at his hand contemplatively and then kneeled down in front of Kris with a twisted grin, “Change of plans, I guess. This... _this_ is much more effective, don't you think? It would have been such a chore to fix Yixing again after he learned of your death, but this way is so much easier. We get to be rid of you, stay together, and you,” he raised Yixing's bleeding hand and let it hover low over Kris' hands, making sure to darken both with Yixing's blood, “get to live with the guilt of having been the cause of Xingxing's death. Kinda poetic, no? _His blood on your hands._ ”  
  
Kris moved to grab Yixing’s hand, but ‘Luhan’ pulled away, nicking Kris’ wrist in the process, with a click of the tongue, “Ooh, so close.” He derided as he raised the shard to his neck, “A move like that again, and I can’t make any promises that my hand won’t slip.”  
  
“Stop it!” Kris yelled out in frustration with tears streaming down his face for the first time in a decade. “Give him back. _Give Yixing back!_ ” He wiped his eyes with his hands, turning his vision crimson as Yixing's blood mixed with his hot tears.  He stared down at his hands and asked himself why on earth he got assigned to this case.  
  
“K…Kris?”  
  
Kris looked up sharply at his name being called in that familiar soft tone of voice.  
  
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you bleeding? Where are you hurt?!”  
  
Kris laughed a bit hysterically through choked sobs, because Yixing was the only person who would be worried about someone else when his own hand was bleeding out of control as it held a sharp edge to his throat. Kris quickly, but gently, wrestled the shard out of Yixing’s grasp and left a bewildered Yixing sitting on the ground as he got up to rummage through the closet in search of the first aid kit. _Of all times to be in a foreign country and not know the number for calling an ambulance._ He vaguely recalled someone telling him it was 999 in the United Kingdom, but he hardly had time to dial a number that may or may not be what he needed.  
  
“Kris…? What happened? Why was I holding that?” Yixing’s voice wavered.  
  
_Where the fuck is that first aid kit?!_ Kris cursed vehemently under his breath before he found it sitting in the highest shelf that even he had to tiptoe to reach. Overturning the entire box’s contents onto the ground in front of him when he returned to Yixing's side, Kris tore open a roll of gauze.  
  
“Jesus, I didn’t do this to you did I?” Yixing had grabbed Kris’ wrist where ‘Luhan’ had cut him. It was certainly bigger than a paper cut, but it was ridiculously far down Kris' list of worries at the moment.  
  
“Can you just shut up a moment and let me fix you up?” Kris practically yelled, “For fuck’s sake, stop fucking worrying about me and worry about yourself for a fucking minute, would you?” Kris didn’t like that he had raised his voice at Yixing, using rude expletives at that, but he forgave himself for it momentarily, considering the circumstances; he could apologize later, when Yixing wasn’t bleeding out and his life was no longer hanging in the balance.  
  
In silence, Kris wrapped the bandages around the wound on Yixing’s hand as tightly as possible, making Yixing apply pressure around his wrist to slow the bleeding with his opposite hand. The cut was bigger than he’d thought, travelling all the way up to the major artery in his wrist. “We’re going to the hospital,” Kris said simply when he’d gone through two whole rolls of gauze. The bleeding had slowed a little, but Kris was not about to take any chances.  
  
“I’m _fine_ , Kris.”  
  
“What did I say about shutting up? You’re not fine. You’ve lost a lot blood. Now can you stand up?”  
  
“Of course I can sta-” Yixing’s knee buckled under him and he had to lean his weight into Kris.  
  
“You were saying?” Kris hunched over so that Yixing could wrap an arm around his neck for support as the two made their way to the elevator.  
  
They waited in silence for the car to arrive at their floor before Yixing spoke up again, his voice tiny, childlike and almost inaudible, “I killed that guy in the apartment next to mine, didn’t I?”  
  
“No,” Kris answered immediately, without hesitation, “You didn’t.”  
  
“Yes, I did. I shot him, then went out to buy some ice cream for comfort food, came back to my apartment and met you.”  
  
Kris lead Yixing into the elevator, hit the button for the lobby, and prayed that there would be an available cab waiting downstairs at the hotel entrance. “No, that wasn’t you. Luhan did all those things,” Kris hoped that Yixing still thought that Luhan was on a business trip. It would be easier for Yixing to accept that his best friend had killed Kim Minseok than that he’d been the one to pull the trigger.  
  
“But Luhan and I are the same person.”  
  
Kris swallowed, angry with himself that he’d said he wouldn’t lie to Yixing anymore, but here he was, lying to his face again. “You’re confused. You have no idea what you’re saying.”  
  
“Stop trying to protect me from the truth, Kris.”  
  
Kris clenched his jaw and didn’t respond as they exited the elevator, ignoring the looks they received from various passers-by. He thanked no one in particular that there were cabs parked outside the expensive hotel, waiting for wealthy passengers to tip them large sums. He tucked Yixing into the back seat carefully and shuffled in next to him. “The hospital please.”  
  
Kris slid low into his seat so Yixing could lean his head on his’ shoulder. He held onto Yixing’s unbound hand tightly, their fingers intertwined, while keeping the bleeding hand steady in his lap. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered repeatedly to Yixing, though it was probably more to reassure himself. _I can’t lose you_. The bandage around Yixing’s hand had little white space left.  
  
“You’re hurt,” Yixing said, gently touching the angry line that traced along Kris’ arm.  
  
“It’s nothing. See? Already healing up,” Kris comforted, peeling some of the dried blood away from the small incision. He couldn’t tell if it was his own or if it belonged to Yixing.  
  
“I’m tired, Kris.”  
  
“We’re almost there, Yixing. Don’t fall asleep on me, okay?" _Don’t leave me all alone._  
  
“Just a couple minutes?”  
  
“No!” Kris cried, “Stay with me, Xing-ah." _Please._  
  
When they finally arrived at the entrance at the emergency room, the driver told him to forget the fare. Yixing had fallen asleep just a moment ago despite Kris’ furious efforts and he had to carry him bridal style through the automatic sliding doors. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Kris told - no - _pleaded to_ the first nurse he saw, “and he’s got haemophilia. _Help him._ ”  
  
Whatever happened next was only a blur as Kris paced in the waiting area. He was pretty sure that at some point later that night, Zitao had shown up and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, though he didn’t recall much of the flight back to headquarters where he was told he was under evaluation and was suspended until further notice. He didn’t pay attention when Jongdae showed up at his home with a six-pack of beer so they could talk. Kris didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to be with Yixing again, back in London taking stupid picture in front of useless historical fixtures.  
  
He realised that he was no better than ‘Luhan’ because Yixing didn’t need Kris quite as much in his life as Kris needed Yixing in his.  
  
…  
  
_“Zhang Yixing suffers from dissociative identity disorder, though we can’t be sure what exactly the cause is. Based on his historical profile, it is likely that he formed the character who calls himself Luhan as a way to shield himself from all the pain and losses he’s had to endure. I’m afraid there isn’t an easy fix to his condition, and it’ll take probably years for any improvement, especially now that he seems to have developed amnesia, having forgotten everything after the incident with Kim Minseok, probably as a coping mechanism after learning what his alternative personality had done without his knowledge. When I first interviewed him, he still believed to be living in the apartment above Luhan’s and that they are still best friends. An official cure has yet to be found for this type of mental illness, but there are certain methods that can be applied. Unfortunately, he is a threat to himself and will have to be kept under observation at all times. For the time being, it is not recommended that he have any visitors that may trigger a violent memory of the incident his subconscious has tried to cover up. Perhaps later when he has reached a more stable condition.”_  
  
…  
  
Zhang Yixing sat at a picnic bench under a tree with sheets of manuscript littered around its chipped surface. He’d been sitting with a guitar in his lap for the past couple of hours, trying to compose a song, as he often did when he wasn’t busy practicing or teaching at the dance studio. Flipping to a fresh page, he drew a small cartoon dragon in the top right corner, as he always did with his manuscripts.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Zhang Yixing looked up to find a tall figure, dressed smartly, hovering over the table, his long finger pointing at the drawing in the corner. “Uhm, it’s a dragon. Kinda like a signature of mine, I guess.”  
  
“Why a dragon?” The stranger asked.  
  
Yixing shrugged, “Dunno. I just found it interesting. Spoke to me somehow,” He looked up at the man wearing sunglasses and found his facial structure familiar. Comfortable.  
  
“Ah. Well, sorry for interrupting,” the stranger started to turn and leave.  
  
“Wait!” Zhang Yixing called, “Could you do me a favour?”  
  
The stranger didn’t turn around again when he answered with a strained voice, “What is it?”  
  
“Can you give me your opinion on the piece I’m working on? It’ll only take a second.” No response came from the stranger, “Sir?”  
  
“Yeah, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Zhang Yixing's stranger sat down across from him on the bench.  
  
“Okay, it’s not nearly done, so you’ll have to bear with me,” Zhang Yixing explained as he shifted into a more comfortable position to play his guitar.  
  
_“As innocent as a child who doesn’t understand anything_  
_That beautiful moment of rebirth_  
_Close and then open your eyes afraid that everything is a dream_  
_With nostalgia, I sincerely stand in front of you eager to get in your line of sight_  
_I just want to walk together with you, two people walking to the same pace, just once is more than enough_  
  
_When I ride the wind, and land on your world_  
A white breeze will surround you  
You ask where I come from, I smile and reply that it’s a secret  
As long as it’s you and me continuing on together  
Heaven is any time and any place”  
  
Zhang Yixing cleared his throat to signify that he was done, “Well?”  
  
“It’s… very good,” the stranger said quietly, before getting up, “I hope you finish it,” he said simply as he straightened his jacket, something falling out of his pocket without his notice as he turned to leave. It was a cute plush dragon keychain.  
  
Picking it up from the grass, Zhang Yixing felt a tiny disturbance in his chest. “Sir?” he got up from his seat and jogged a couple steps to catch up, holding up the keychain, “I believe this is yours.”  
  
The stranger made a panicked motion to retrieve it, but left his hand hovering over Zhang Yixing’s, not touching. “Actually, you keep it, as a reminder of me.”  
  
“That wouldn’t be right. It’s yours!” Zhang Yixing pushed his hand forwards.  
  
“No, really, I insist. You can use it as your signature.”  
  
Zhang Yixing contemplated the suggestion. The keychain certainly had a striking resemblance to the dragons he drew on all his compositions. Then an idea struck him. Pulling out his own set of keys, he removed the hoop that was attached to a silver charm that looked like the two-dimensional drawing of the head of a unicorn. “Here, we’ll trade.” Zhang Yixing smiled widely so that a dimple graced his right cheek.  
  
The stranger took the offer from Zhang Yixing’s hand hesitantly, and Zhang Yixing couldn’t help but detect a hint of sorrow from the man’s smile. He didn’t have time to contemplate the strange expression because the alarm on his phone went off, reminding him of the appointment he had with his therapist in half an hour. When he’d finally fumbled enough to turn off the buzzing sound, the stranger had already left. Zhang Yixing headed back towards his work to clean up, stacking the pages into a neat pile to pack in his bag.  
  
He paused at the piece he had just played for his mysterious stranger and picked up his pencil. At the top, he hesitantly scribbled two words: ‘ _For Kris.’_ Zhang Yixing tilted his head and frowned; he had no recollection of ever meeting anyone by that name. 


End file.
